Solid Ground
by Shades of Mundane
Summary: Hermione just wants to feel like a normal person again. Her dad agrees to let her move in with him in Sunnydale for a while. What could possibly go wrong with her plan for a peaceful, non-life-threatening year of studying and catching up with her father?
1. Muggle Transport Isn't Much Fun Either

**Title**: Solid Ground

**Summary**: Hermione no longer feels enchanted by the world of magic; her mum and step-father are angry and staying in Australia; and Hermione just wants to feel like a normal person again. Her dad agrees to let her move in with him in Sunnydale for a while. What could possibly go wrong with her fool-proof plan for a peaceful, non-life-threatening year of studying and catching up with her father?

**Spoilers**: Basically anything from any book/season of Harry Potter, Buffy, and Angel is fair game, but if you haven't read/seen all of them yet, why are you reading my crazy ramblings instead of the real thing?

**Disclaimer**: I don't own them - which is probably a good thing...

**A/N**: Okay, so this is not even remotely related to my little oneshot that I posted ages ago about Ginny. I obviously have some kind of fascination with the Harry Potter characters escaping the wizarding world after the war. Who knows why? In any case, this is a short chapter, but I'm interested to know what people think - should I continue? Reviews are always appreciated. Enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter One – Muggle Transport Isn't Much Fun Either<strong>

**~#~**

She felt the inexplicable urge to glare at her reflection as she stood in the airport bathroom, the grimy mirror mocking her from its position above the once-white sink. The flight had been both long and horrible, and had left Hermione feeling really quite filthy. She was forced to sit next to an incredibly tall man who seemed to have a hard time fitting his long limbs into the tiny space, and so had encroached on _her_ little slice of said tiny space.

The seat behind her had been occupied by a young father with his tiny daughter, who couldn't have been more than a few months old. The baby had been quiet for the most part, except for a two hour screaming session, throughout which the father fussed about, trying desperately to figure out what was wrong. The row in front had seated three small children, none of whom seemed capable of behaving themselves for more than five minutes at a time. Their mother, across the aisle, with the youngest of the children, appeared disinterested in the disruptions her children were causing in the cabin.

Hermione had been exceptionally glad to escape the aircraft, and had, thankfully, only had to wait a further ten minutes or so to claim her luggage.

Now she stood in the bathroom, contemplating her appearance. She wasn't a vain girl, but she still couldn't stand the sight of the bird's nest that currently sat atop her head, nor was she particularly pleased with the dark circles beneath her eyes. The small amount of makeup she had put on before her flight did nothing to hide her fatigue. Add to that the strange griminess that seemed to go hand-in-hand with public transport of any kind, and she was seriously contemplating pulling out her wand.

The bathroom door swung open, hitting the wall behind it with a loud bang that startled Hermione from her thoughts. She turned to see the same group of small children from the plane rush through the door, their mother trailing after them, looking harried and, once again, disinterested in their behaviour. With a last glance at the wild children, Hermione shelved the wand idea and made her way out of the bathroom. She had truly not wanted her father to see her looking so unkempt, but there wasn't much for it. Perhaps she would have a chance later to make herself presentable before he arrived.

Glancing at her watch, she realised she had at least another quarter hour before her father arrived. She sighed, wishing she had followed her friends' suggestion to travel to California on an International Portkey. It would have been faster, cheaper, and simpler than arriving by plane, not to mention cleaner. But, Hermione had been determined that she would travel via muggle means, considering she was intending to live predominantly as a muggle for at least the next year. She had wanted to get into the swing of things after spending the last seven years relying on magic for numerous tasks, and flying into Los Angeles had seemed like a good way to do so.

Now all she wanted was to reach her father's house, have a warm shower, and collapse into a nice bed.

Lugging her suitcases behind her, Hermione walked the length of the airport, until she located a small coffee shop that smelled like heaven. Ordering a very large coffee and a muffin, she sunk into one of the almost-comfortable chairs to wait for her father, pulling a novel from her carry-on to read in the meantime.

Half an hour passed without notice as Hermione finished her coffee and, shortly afterwards, her novel. It was only then she glanced at her watch, and realised her father was almost twenty minutes late.

It was rather odd, she thought, her father was never late for anything. The thought sent a spark of panic running through her, and horrible scenarios filled her mind. Hermione shook her head, exasperated with herself. She was so used to things going wrong that she was getting worked up about something as simple as her father being a little late to pick her up. Gathering her bags and dumping her rubbish in the nearest bin, she glanced around the small cafe, looking for someone who might be able to give her directions.

"Excuse me," She captured the attention of the young woman who had served her at the counter. "Could you possibly point me in the direction of a public phone?"

The girl, whose nametag read 'Trina' in bright letters, spoke with a thick accent that was decidedly American, but otherwise unrecognisable to Hermione. "Sure, honey, you just head back down that way, towards the baggage claim. There's a little alcove off to the left with about half a dozen phones."

Hermione thanked the cheerful woman and hurried off to follow her directions. Locating the alcove easily, she set her bags down and punched in her father's number. "Pick up, pick up, pick up," she murmured under her breath, annoyed when it went straight to his answering machine. With a sigh, she left a short message before deciding to walk about the airport a bit in the hopes of finding him somewhere amongst the masses. She grinned at the thought of him wandering confused around the huge building, as she set off towards some of the other cafes dotted throughout the airport.

It was almost an hour later when she finally had enough of hearing her father's voice on the answering machine. After half a dozen calls, and just as many messages, she decided to simply inform him that she intended to get the bus into Sunnydale, and find her own way to his flat. During her hour of wanderings and unanswered phone calls, she'd enquired about the next bus to Sunnydale, and was pleased to find out there wasn't much of a wait. "I hope you're okay, Dad. I'll see you in a bit," Hermione finished before she ended the call and made her was to the bus terminal, fretting over her father's whereabouts.

As the half-empty bus pulled out of the terminal, headed for the little town her father currently called home, Hermione couldn't help but worry that something was seriously wrong.

**~#~**


	2. What In The World?

**Chapter Two - What In The World?**

**~#~**

It was nearing dark by the time the bus pulled into the shabby little terminal of Sunnydale station, and Hermione was feeling a little worse for wear. It almost made her long for even the most stomach-churning of transport used by wizards. _Almost_.

She stepped out of the bus and onto the still-warm pavement, hoisting her duffle over her shoulder, and trailing her other bags close behind.

Scanning the area for any sign of a taxi-rank, Hermione couldn't help but overhear the driver of the bus issue a warning to a couple of other young passengers about the dangers of Sunnydale after nightfall. Hermione was quite baffled; Sunnydale had seemed like such a lovely place when she'd visited her father two years before - small and thoroughly unexciting, yes, but certainly not dangerous.

Unable to locate a taxi or even a phone number by which to call for one, Hermione decided it would be far easier for her to simply walk to her father's place. It would take her about half an hour, she reasoned - there wasn't a whole lot of town, after all - and the walk would do her a world of good after so many hours of sitting. All she needed was to find somewhere she could shrink her bags to a more manageable size before she headed off.

She ducked inside a nearby bathroom, checking for occupants before quickly shrinking most of her luggage to fit into her pockets. Leaving the bathroom with her handbag over her shoulder and just one small suitcase on wheels, Hermione glanced around for anybody who might have noticed her sudden loss of luggage, and hurried off down the street.

**~#~**

The walk took a little longer than expected, but Hermione still made good time, and was happy to finally arrive at her father's flat. Knocking on the door, she wasn't entirely surprised when there was no answer - she'd had no luck reaching him so far, why should this be any different?

Idly wondering whether she would be forced to pick the lock, Hermione began searching for a hide-a-key, and was relieved to locate one beneath a nearby flower pot.

Though Fred had taught her the fine skill of lock-picking, she preferred not to break-and-enter whenever possible. Besides, she wasn't particularly good at it.

With her wand held at the ready, Hermione made her way through her father's tiny flat, checking for any sign that something may be wrong. Her father, evidently, wasn't there, but neither was anyone else.

She dumped her luggage in her bedroom, and returned to the living room. It looked exactly as she remembered, save for the half-empty bottles of liquor sitting by the couch, the records on the floor beside the shelf where they usually resided, and the complete lack of her father's presence. It appeared her dad had been having a bit of a party, which may at least account for his absence.

Perhaps it had something to do with the strange behaviour of the people she had passed on the streets tonight. Grown men and women - many of them dressed in business attire - had run about the streets acting like children.

Actually, if she considered the number of people she had seen engaged in activities she would rather _not_ have witnessed, they were acting more like teenagers.

It was the strangest thing, and certainly was not what she had been expecting from the quiet little town. The only explanation she could think of was that there was some kind of celebration going on tonight that her father had forgotten to mention.

In any case, there was no way she'd be able to find her father in the jumble of odd people out there tonight. Deciding it was best to give him a bit of time to return before she truly panicked, Hermione set about making herself a warm drink and scouring her father's shelves for something to read.

**~#~**

Hermione woke suddenly, unsure what had stirred her from the bizarre nightmare she'd been caught in. She couldn't quite recall the details of the dream but her heart was pounding and her fringe was plastered to her damp forehead.

She was curled up on the couch, her neck aching from the strange position in which she had fallen asleep. A large book lay open across her lap and a half-empty cup of coffee - now cold, she was sure - sat on the end table.

She couldn't help but notice how quiet the flat seemed, and it worried her that her father had obviously not yet returned. She had been certain, after all, that he would be home soon after she had arrived, and so had settled in to wait, pouring over one of his ancient tomes. Strictly speaking, she wasn't even supposed to know about many of the books in her father's private collection, and she certainly wasn't permitted to read them. That had never stopped her though, and this particular volume was one she'd had her eye on for quite some time.

Carefully closing the precious book and setting it on the cushion beside her, Hermione stood warily and drew her wand. She was almost certain she could hear faint noises from outside the apartment complex.

Despite her awareness of someone, or some_thing_, outside, she was startled when the door was suddenly flung open by a tiny blonde who was pushing a loudly protesting man through the open doorway. Wand pointed at the intruders, Hermione quickly moved around the couch to get a better look, immediately recognising the man as her father, who was dressed... Rather oddly.

She quirked an eyebrow at his rumpled clothing - a white t-shirt with the sleeves rolled up, a pair of jeans, and a button-down shirt tied around his middle - all of which looked as though they'd seen better days. She stared at her father in bewilderment; never having seen him dressed in such a manner, and couldn't help the tiny gasp when she caught sight of his earring. Honestly! What on earth was going on here?

Neither her father nor the blonde were paying any attention to Hermione, so caught up in their argument were they. "You can't lock her away in her room, you know? She'll just find a way out." Her father was saying, indicating out the door with one hand, while the other pointed harshly at the girl.

Hermione lowered her wand as she stared at the spectacle, but kept it in hand, worried this might turn into one of those odd situations that seemed to punctuate her life these days.

"No, she won't, Giles. I'll make sure of it. Now, go sleep this off or-or whatever. Tomorrow everyone will be back to normal and I can happily repress this night for the rest of my life."

"We're just having some fun. Bloody killjoy, you are." He said, sullenly. "Besides," He suddenly drew himself up to his full height. "I'm still your Watcher, and you have to do what I tell you!"

"When has that ever happened?" The blonde scoffed.

"Buffy!" Another voice joined the mix, and Hermione looked on in confusion as an older woman rushed through the doorway, wrapping her arms around the man who was still acting quite unlike her father.

"Mom!" The blonde, Buffy, groaned. "I told you to stay in the car."

"I didn't wanna - you were taking too long. Besides, I want to stay here with Ripper." _Ripper? _Hermione wondered. _What in the world?_

"Told you," He smirked.

"Well, y-you... Too bad! Let's go." Buffy gripped her mother's arm and started to lead her outside. Hermione was surprised, yet again, when her father reached out and pulled the older woman back into his arms, refusing to let the blonde take her mother away.

Still confused, but growing impatient with the strange interaction - not to mention the fact that none of the three had even acknowledged her existence - Hermione cleared her throat. Loudly.

Startled, all three turned to face her. "Oh! Hermione! Didn't know you were coming today." At least her father looked pleasantly surprised to see her, even if the surprised part was a little disconcerting.

"Oh, so this is Hermione?" The woman asked, peering curiously at her. "Cool."

Buffy just looked confused. "Who's Hermione?" When she didn't get any kind of response from the 'adults', she glanced behind her, and winced at the sight, obviously as disturbed as Hermione was by the impromptu snogging session. "Stop doing that!" She cried, pulling her mother away, before turning to Hermione. "Who are you?"

"Considering you just came barging in here, I believe I should be the one asking the questions. Who are _you_?"

The two glared at one another, until Buffy, unexpectedly, sighed in resignation. "Fine, my name is Buffy Summers. Now, who are you? And, what are you doing in Giles' apartment in the middle of the night?"

"Hermione Granger. I'm here to visit my father."

"Oh. Who's your father?" Hermione raised an eyebrow as she stared at the blonde. "Wait, _Giles_? Giles is your _dad_?" Buffy turned to the man in question, "You have a _daughter_?"

"Obviously," He drawled, uninterested.

"Since when?"

"A long while, I'd say - look at the size of her."

"Dad!" Hermione protested.

"Oh! Was I meant to pick you up today? I was, wasn't I? Forgot. Oh well, you're 'ere now." Her father shrugged, apparently unconcerned by the fact that he had completely forgotten her arrival.

"_Forgot_? What is going on here?" She demanded. "You're dressed like a-a teenager, you're speaking with a bloody strange accent, you _forgot_ to collect me from the airport in L.A., and you...you're _smoking_. None of this is normal, nor is it making any sense. So would someone _please _tell me what the hell is going on?"

"Nothing," Buffy said quickly. "Nothing is going on."

"Really? Do you actually expect me to believe that there is nothing wrong with my father? Or your mother for that matter - I doubt she usually behaves in such a manner. It seems to me as though they're under some kind of... spell," Hermione finished, warily. She knew her father was well aware of the world of magic - and that he'd dabbled in the Wiccan arts himself, though he didn't possess the same magic as she - but Hermione had no idea whether Buffy and her mother were similarly informed.

"A spell? There's no such thing as magic!" Buffy declared, nervously.

_Well that settles that_, Hermione thought, _she obviously knows something about magic_.

"Look, I know all about magic and such, there's no point in hiding it from me. Just... tell me what's wrong with my father so I can help fix it. Please?"

"You can't fix it," Buffy admitted. "But it should wear off overnight. We hope." Hermione grimaced as she noticed her father and Buffy's mother had once again wrapped themselves around one another, and were completely ignoring their repulsed daughters. "I think I should take mom home now."

"Erm, yes, I think that's probably a good idea." Hermione agreed. Buffy forcibly removed her mother from the flat, ignoring the woman's protests, and Hermione hurried to close the door behind them. She leant against the wood to block her father's escape, and stared up at him, ignoring the way he was glowering at her. "Dad?"

"What?"

"Go to bed." She ordered, sounding remarkably like Molly Weasley.

"Sod off! You can't tell me what to do - I'm your father!"

"I don't care." She stated, drawing her wand. "Either you go to bed willingly and sleep off whatever is wrong with you, or I'll stupefy you right here and leave you on the floor until morning. I can tell you now, it isn't a pleasant feeling."

"Fine," He stomped off to his room, and Hermione followed with a sigh. There was no way he was going to bed, nor was he going to stay there - that much was obvious. Waiting until he'd flopped himself down on the bed, pretending he intended to follow her orders, Hermione sent him to sleep with a quick flick of her wand. Pulling off his shoes and rolling him into a more comfortable position, she piled him with blankets, and left him to sleep.

In the comfort of her new bed, Hermione lay wide awake staring at the ceiling. Something very odd was going on in this town, of that she was certain. Buffy had been vague and evasive in her explanation (if you could call it that), even after she had accepted that Hermione was aware of magic. Most everyone else she had passed that evening had been acting as strangely as her father, and yet no one had seemed to notice or care that it was more than a little odd.

Deciding she would get the truth out of her father tomorrow - assuming he was himself again - she allowed herself to fall into a fitful sleep.

**~#~**


	3. Charred Pancakes And Sword Fighting

**A/N:** Massive thanks to those who have reviewed! I've been busy with insane exams, but they're over now. Thank god. Hopefully I'll be able to post more frequently now, but real life gets kind of crazy. Anyway, hope you enjoy!

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Three - Charred Pancakes And Sword Fighting<strong>

**~#~**

Hermione awoke the next morning to the sound of clanging in the kitchen. Obviously, the spell she had placed on her father last night had worn off.

Hopefully, he was himself once again.

Rolling wearily out of bed, Hermione pulled on a robe and shuffled out to the kitchen. Standing in the doorway she couldn't help but grin at the sight she was met with.

Her father was attempting to cook... something.

Whatever it was, he appeared to be failing - if the curses he was uttering were anything to go by.

Startled by her inadvertent giggle, he spun around, almost dropping the frying pan in the process.

Eyes wide, he hurriedly placed the pan on the stovetop and drew her into a hug. "I'm sorry, Hermione. I should have collected you from the airport yesterday afternoon and brought you back here myself. You should never have had to witness me acting as I did last night, and I'm ever so sorry."

"Dad, it's okay. Nobody seemed to be acting normally. I didn't for a minute believe that it was your fault."

"Nevertheless, I feel I should apologise properly."

"By making me charred pancakes for breakfast? That's very thoughtful of you, Dad, but I'm afraid burnt isn't my favourite flavour."

"Yes, well, it appears I'm not very accomplished at, uh, making pancakes."

Hermione laughed, "It's okay, really. I'm well aware of your cooking abilities. Besides, you really don't need to apologise. Though I would appreciate an explanation for whatever happened last night."

"Right, yes, of course."

Hermione set about preparing something edible for breakfast, while her father cleared up the mess he had made of the kitchen.

As they sat down to eat, Hermione returned to their conversation. "So, erm, last night? I asked that girl, Buffy is it?" He nodded, so she continued, "I asked whether it was a spell, but she seemed a bit nervous, and didn't actually explain what had happened. She did at least tell me that there was nothing I could do to fix it and that you should be fine by morning."

"She was right," he stated, needlessly.

"Yes, I had figured that out when I found you attempting to cook breakfast for me."

"Of course."

"So what was it then?"

"What was what?"

"Dad, last night."

"It was a spell, yes," he admitted. "But," he held up a hand as she started to fret. "It wasn't anything to do with your magic. It was an old friend of mine who now rather enjoys chaos. He was in town simply to create as much mayhem as possible."

"An old friend?"

"Yes. We met as children, and were quite good friends for many years. I'm almost certain your mother would remember him."

Hermione tensed at the mention of her mother, but forged ahead, determined to get some kind of logical explanation for last night. "So, you have a friend who likes to cause chaos by casting spells that do what exactly?"

"Last night's spell simply caused otherwise responsible adults to act like children for a number of hours; and I wouldn't call him a friend these days, hasn't been for rather a long time now."

"But why? What was the point?"

"As I said, Ethan enjoys creating chaos everywhere he goes, and he especially likes when he can mess with me at the same time."

"That's it? That was his whole reasoning behind it?"

"Well, you can never be quite sure with Ethan, he's often got some kind of ulterior motive hidden away, but as far as we can tell nothing else out of the ordinary occurred last night."

Hermione sighed, certain she was missing something. She had a feeling he wasn't giving her the full story, but there wasn't much she could do at this point.

Besides, why would her father lie to her about something like this? Magic was her specialty, even if it was a different variety than she was used to.

They ate in silence for a moment longer, before her father spoke up again, changing the subject entirely.

"When did you say you're starting at the school?"

"Tomorrow. I've made an appointment with Principal, er -"

"Snyder."

"Right, with Principal Snyder, for first thing in the morning. I'll have tomorrow and Friday to get settled into classes, and to get a syllabus so I know what I need to catch up on. I can spend the weekend getting caught up a bit, so that from Monday I should be able to do regular classes, without being too far behind."

"Nobody is going to think any less of you if it takes you a little while to get caught up, Hermione."

"I know, I just... I want to get into the swing of things as quickly as possible. It's bad enough I'm coming from an unusual, and unknown, boarding school. In Britain, no less. I'm going to stand out enough as it is. Not that standing out is necessarily a bad thing, only I've had more than my share of attention. Being Harry Potter's friend, and a muggleborn to boot, guaranteed that. This is my chance to just blend in a bit, and be normal. Or as normal as my life ever gets, I suppose."

Her father nodded thoughtfully, "Are you sure you want to attend Sunnydale? It's going to be an awful lot of work on top of your correspondence studies."

"I'm positive. It will open up far more opportunities for me, having a high school diploma as well as whatever N.E.W.T.s I receive. I wouldn't mind going to a muggle university, even. Did you know that the wizarding world doesn't even have any universities?" Hermione said, horrified by the lack of higher magical education. "The most you can hope for in terms of further education is apprenticeships with a Master, but they're very hard to come by."

"Well, if you're certain. But -"

"I am. I understand your concerns, Dad, but this is something I really want to do."

"All right."

"All right?"

"Yes," he shrugged. "If this is what you really want, I know better than to think I could stop you, even if I wanted to. But, just know that if it gets to be too much, you can pull back any time you want."

"I'll keep that in mind."

"But you won't, will you?" He sighed, exasperated.

"Probably not," she agreed, grinning at her father's defeated expression. "Now, don't you have a job to be getting to?"

"What? Oh, yes. I suppose I ought to head off."

**~#~**

The day passed quickly enough, as Hermione unpacked her belongings, and settled into her father's home. _My home_, she had to remind herself.

Exhausted from the activities of the past few days, Hermione ate an early dinner, and settled into bed with a large book.

By the time her father arrived home, she was fast asleep in what looked to be a rather uncomfortable position, with the book lying heavily across her stomach.

Trying not to wake her, he closed the book, placing it on the side table, and moved her into a more comfortable position under the covers. She woke for a moment, poised to attack, but he calmed her with a few words, and she soon drifted back into her dreams.

**~#~**

Hermione sat patiently in the Principal's office. It wasn't a fancy office, certainly not a welcoming one - it seemed to have been decorated with the direct purpose of discomforting all who graced it.

She'd been waiting for at least fifteen minutes for Principal Snyder to come back from 'sorting out those damn hooligans' as he'd put it.

She got the impression he wasn't really too fond of children. Which begged the question, why on Earth did he pursue a career as a high school principal?

He was obviously in the wrong profession.

Hermione's mental ramblings were cut short as the Principal reentered the office and took a seat opposite her, a sneer etched on his face. He seemed pleased.

_Probably tortured some poor student_, thought Hermione.

She plastered a smile on her face as he fixed his gaze on her. "Miss Granger. Your academic record is acceptable, though you appear to be behind in some areas of the curriculum."

"Yes, sir. I attended a specialised boarding school in Scotland from the time I was eleven. It was not a traditional curriculum, so there is some areas I am going to need to catch up on. However, I believe with some work I can at least achieve an acceptable standard in order to graduate."

"Fine. You scored well enough in the placement exams, so you will begin Senior classes immediately. However, if you do not achieve the standard necessary you will not be able to graduate with the rest of your class."

"Yes, sir."

"And be warned, Miss Granger, I will not tolerate any hooligan behaviour in my school. Mess up and you will be expelled." Snyder sneered at her again and she resisted the urge to roll her eyes at his obvious attempt at intimidation.

Please, she'd dealt with Snape for the last seven years.

Next to the old bat of the dungeons, Snyder was as scary as a butterfly. "Now, I believe your first class begins in, oh, three minutes. Wouldn't want to be late to class on your first day."

"No, sir. Wouldn't want that." Hermione smiled brightly at the rodent of a man, hoisted her bag onto her shoulder, and strode confidently out of the office.

As soon as she was out of earshot, she shuddered, "Ugh, revolting man." She pulled out her timetable, and a basic map of the Sunnydale High campus, and rushed to her first class - U.S. History. Brilliant.

She was, as it happens, still five minutes late for class, though the teacher seemed perfectly friendly about the whole thing, introducing herself and directing her to an empty seat next to a tall brunette. She slid into the seat, and focused on what the teacher was saying, as she slipped a notebook out of her bag and started taking notes.

The class passed in a blur as Hermione tried to take in everything they were covering in the class. It was going to be hell trying to learn a whole new set of history. She'd spent six years learning the history of the wizarding world, and her primary school years learning British history with a bit of world history thrown in.

Now she had to learn American history as well.

"Cordelia Chase," Hermione looked up, startled. The brunette was standing in front of her, hand outstretched. Hermione blinked, automatically shaking hands with the other girl. "Hello. Hermione Granger. Nice to meet you."

"Ooh, nice accent. You're English? Just like Giles. I suppose you enjoy tea as well."

"Erm, well tea is rather soothing, I suppose. I usually prefer coffee actually, myself. Giles?" Hermione asked, curiously, surprised this girl even knew her father.

"Oh, Mr Giles is the librarian. He's English too. Started working here a couple of years ago. He was the curator at the British museum. I think, anyway. He's actually kinda cool, once you get past the whole tweed and glasses thing. And his tendency to get knocked-out on a regular basis."

"Knocked-out?" Hermione questioned, bewildered. What exactly was her father doing that was frequently leaving him unconscious?

"Giles is, um, a bit accident prone, hits his head a lot. It's a thing. Anyway, so what brings you to Sunnydale?" Cordelia asked with a grin.

Hermione shrugged, "My father, actually. He invited me to move over here to live with him and it seemed like as good a place as any to do my final year, graduate, that kind of thing. I mean, Sunnydale certainly sounds like a nice place to live, seems harmless enough so far."

Cordelia laughed.

Hermione gave her a strange look, "So, where can I find this library?"

"You have a free period now?" Hermione nodded. "Me too. Come on, I'll give you the grand tour."

**~#~**

It was half an hour later when they finally reached the library.

Cordelia pushed open the double doors with a flourish, still chatting away to Hermione, who froze in the doorway as she took in the sight in front of her.

The doors swung closed behind her as she watched, fascinated.

A tiny blonde and a taller brunette were fighting, with swords - in the middle of the school library.

Hermione couldn't help but admire the grace with which they fought one another. Their movements were fluid, almost a dance, as they lunged and deflected, moving back and forth across the floor to the amusement of their audience - three teens perched on the table and Hermione's father standing beside them.

As they spun, Hermione was surprised to recognise the blonde from the other night. "Buffy, you're leaving your right side open!" Giles smiled wryly as the blonde shot him a glare. "Faith," he continued. "Stop putting so much power behind your lunges, you're making it easy to use your momentum against you."

Both girls seemed to take his advice to heart, despite their glares and grumbling, and they continued their dance until both seemed to grow bored with the activity.

They held the swords against each other's throats and made dramatic dying faces and gurgling noises.

Hermione couldn't help but grin as the other teens laughed, and her father smiled lightly. "Yes, yes, very funny," He said, shaking his head before disappearing into his office for a moment.

The girls flopped down into two of the vacant chairs as Cordelia made her way over to the taller boy.

"Cordy? Making new friends? You haven't been buying slaves again have you?"

"Ha! Hilarious, Harris," Cordelia snapped, though the effect was ruined by the small smile she sent his way before turning her attention back to Hermione.

"Hi! Hermione, right?" Buffy piped up, finally noticing they had company.

"Yes, it's nice to see you again, Buffy. Do you usually practice sword fighting in the library?"

"Ha! I-it's just a hobby!" The redhead blurted. "Giles used to be all fencing guy and Buffy and Faith wanted to learn, you know, sword fighting, and it just made sense s-so Giles teaches in the library. Which is usually okay, 'cause nobody comes in here anyway and -"

"Will, you're babbling."

"Sorry."

"Not a problem. I'm quite familiar with babbling, myself," Hermione smiled sadly, reminded of her friends back home.

"Girls, we really need to work on your technique, so if we could meet - Hermione!" Her father wandered back into the room, distractedly cleaning his glasses as he spoke.

"Hi," she grinned.

"I did wonder how long it would be until you found the library," he commented. It was a moment before Giles noticed the strange looks he was getting from the assembled teens. Well, the assembled teens, minus Buffy, who was looking rather smug. "Oh, uh, this is Hermione Granger, my daughter."

"Daughter!" Xander yelped.

"Yes, Xander. My daughter," He said. "Hermione, you met Buffy the other night, and this is Faith, Willow, Xander, Cordelia, and Oz."

"Cordelia is actually the one who brought me here. We were in the same history class and she was nice enough to give me a tour of the school."

"Cordy was nice?"

"Shut up, Xander."

"Yes, my queen."

Hermione grinned at the exchange. Willow rolled her eyes at the pair, "Please excuse them. They can't help but bicker."

"Constantly," Buffy added.

"So, Giles is your dad? What's that like?"

"Um, normal? I mean, he's been my father for rather a long time, so I don't really know what else to say."

"Right, sorry. It's just kinda weird to think that Giles has a daughter our age. Giles is a dad. See, th-that sentence is _weird_." Willow blushed as Giles looked at her oddly.

"Yeah, how come we never knew you had a daughter, G-man?" Xander piped up and then suddenly grimaced and fell silent. Hermione watched curiously as the boy seemed to be having some kind of internal debate. Whatever was going through his mind seemed to be quite painful as he winced a couple of times, before shaking his head and relaxing. She assumed this meant he had reached some kind of decision, but what it might be she had no clue.

Glancing back at the other teens she was surprised to see Willow and Buffy watching Xander with knowing grins and whispering to one another.

"So, wait," Cordelia said, rather suddenly, saving Giles from having to answer Xander's question. "You said your dad - which by the way, you didn't mention was Giles - invited you to come stay, and you came because you thought Sunnydale seemed nice, right? But -" Cordelia stopped suddenly, looking confused, as Giles shook his head quickly.

"But, what?" Hermione pressed, having missed her father's gesture.

"Nothing. Just wondering why you'd want to come live in a sleepy little town like Sunnydale is all," Cordelia finished, still staring at the librarian in confusion.

"Oh."

"So, uh, who's hungry?" Xander asked eagerly, breaking the sudden silence of the room.

"Xander, you had breakfast like two hours ago!"

"So?" He grinned. "I'm thinking off-campus today. Who's with me?"

"Sure, why not."

"Anything's gotta be better than cafeteria food."

"Great!" Xander turned to Hermione, "You in?"

"Oh, uh," Hermione glanced at her father, who smiled. "Okay."

The teens packed up their things and headed out the door, yelling goodbye to the librarian and promising to bring him back some 'real' food. Hermione shared a smile with her father and hurried after the group.

As Willow started happily chatting to her about the classes she had that afternoon, Hermione decided that as first days go this wasn't shaping up to be too bad.

It was, however, somewhat stranger than she'd been expecting.

**~#~**


	4. Scoobies

**A/N:** So much for more frequent updating. Anyway, this is shorter than previous chapters, but it's something... right?

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Four - Scoobies<strong>

**~#~**

"G-man! You never did tell us why we didn't even know you had a daughter," Xander accused, as the group assembled in the library, minus the newest addition. Hermione had informed them she needed to get a head start on her studies if she had any hopes of catching up, and had rushed home straight after school, leaving behind a group of bewildered teens. Willow, of course, had completely understood the new girl's reasoning, and had even offered to study with her if she needed any help catching up. Buffy and Xander had merely shaken their heads at the studious pair.

"Yes, well, you never asked," Giles replied. "And would you _please _stop using that infernal nickname."

"'You never asked' is not an excuse for not even hinting that you had a kid, Giles," Buffy piped up, and Willow nodded vigorously behind the blonde.

Giles forced himself not to roll his eyes at the pair and turned his attention, instead, to the brunette leaning against the cage looking bored with the conversation. "Any luck, Faith?"

She had spent the day interrogating - threatening - demons and some other contacts for any information on the strangely fuzzy-looking demon she'd caught sight of the night before.

"Sorry, English," she replied. "Willy isn't talking but I checked out a few of the warehouses - nothin'. Guessing it's gone underground."

Buffy groaned, glaring at the younger Slayer, "You _know _he's gonna send us into the sewers now, don't you?"

Faith grinned as Giles cleared his throat, "I'm afraid you will have to investigate tonight, yes."

"Fine," she sighed. "What exactly is this thing anyway?"

"It's -"

"So what's the deal with Hermione?" Cordelia demanded, as she strode into the library and dropped into a chair beside Xander. The group stared at her abrupt entrance. "What?" She snapped.

"We were -"

"What deal?" Xander asked, confused.

"She thinks Sunnyhell is some safe, sleepy, little town. Why?"

"Because she is not aware of the work I do, Cordelia. She was desperate to get away from her life for a short while and I couldn't refuse her a place to stay. She knows nothing of demons or vampires, and she certainly doesn't know about the hellmouth. I would prefer, as you might have guessed earlier, that she is not informed of the truth of Sunnydale."

"But, Giles, aren't you worried that she won't be safe?" Willow asked, concerned.

"Hermione can take care of herself very well and I don't believe she will come to any harm while living here. I will obviously tell her myself if I believe she is in danger at any time."

"But, wait, she knows about magic. Doesn't she? She thought you and Mom were under a spell during the, um, incident."

Giles shifted awkwardly, "She is aware it exists, yes, though she knows very little about any of the magic we usually come into contact with."

"So you don't want us to say anything?"

"I would appreciate if you didn't. It wouldn't surprise me, however, if she figures it out for herself. She is very bright and far too curious for anything to remain hidden for too long."

"Well, what are you going to do if she finds out?"

"There isn't much I can do. As I said, she's a bright girl, and she's perfectly capable of defending herself. If, and when, she does discover the truth of this town and what we do, I very much doubt I will be able to keep her from helping in some way. The best I can hope for is that she doesn't take the news too badly, and that she doesn't take it upon herself to go out and get herself injured… or killed."

"Is that likely?"

"I'm honestly not sure anymore. She has changed an awful lot since I last saw her, and I'm almost certain she is keeping things from me," he sighed. "We'll just have to wait and see, I suppose."

"You don't think she's keeping something bad from you though, right? Like she's not here to, uh, kill us all or something?" Cordelia asked, ignoring the expressions of the others.

Giles sighed, "No, Cordelia, I don't think my daughter is here to kill us all."

"Okay," she nodded.

The others continued to stare at the brunette in astonishment. "What? You were all thinking it."

**~#~**

Hermione was exhausted. She'd forgotten how completely draining it was to be the new girl. She'd offered Buffy and her friends the excuse of needing to get home to study, when honestly she'd just been desperate to return to her father's flat and relax for a bit. They seemed like an interesting group of people. Something of a strange mix, she thought, but very nice all the same. It seemed her dad had become a sort of substitute father-figure for the group, which was a little odd but not entirely surprising to Hermione. He'd always had that kind of effect on people, drawing them in and making them feel welcome.

She shuffled about the house, wondering what she should do with her evening. Her father had said he probably wouldn't be home until quite late as he had a few things to take care of. She still had the feeling he wasn't telling her everything, but was resigned to the fact that he wasn't likely to share until he was ready. She was certain he would tell her if it was something important.

Looking at the school books piled on the kitchen counter, Hermione sighed. She might as well try to get some work done, she supposed. She really did have an awful lot to get through if she had any hope of graduating with the senior class. Grabbing a can of soft drink from the fridge, she spread her books on the coffee table in front of the couch, and settled herself on the floor. Pulling her maths textbook towards her, she set to work, the familiar routine comforting in a way that she was sure her friends would think rather daft.

**~#~**

"Giles!" Buffy stormed into the library, annoyed by the entire evening, and especially by the fact that she now had to report the night's activities to Giles rather than simply going home for the night.

"Is everything alright? Where's Faith?" Giles looked up from the enormous book open before him, watching the blonde with concern.

"She went home to shower, which I would really like to be doing, so..." Faith had bailed shortly after they'd climbed out of the sewers, leaving Buffy to return to the library by herself. Buffy was desperate to get this over and done with so she could go and de-sewer. She smelled revolting, and she was almost certain she looked just as bad. She really hated sewers.

"You found the demon?" Giles asked, seemingly oblivious to Buffy's distress. Or possibly just ignoring said distress. Probably ignoring it, she decided, glaring at the librarian. Just in case.

"Furry? Check. Massive claws? Check. Tried _really_ hard to kill us and eat our flesh? Check."

"Everything went as planned then, I take it?"

"If by 'as planned' you mean 'the uber-creepy monster-thing is dead' then yes, everything went just swell."

"Good, good," he murmured, flipping through the pages as he searched for something.

"Yes, it was fantastic," she said, rolling her eyes at the man's apparent lack of interest. "You could have mentioned the wings though, Giles!"

"Wings? There was no mention of wings..." Well that certainly got his attention. Pity it didn't sound like good news.

"That's bad, right?" Buffy grimaced.

"Well, it's certainly odd," he agreed. "I'll have to look into it."

"Great! You do your thing with the books and the researching, and I'll go home and try to get this smell out of my hair. Have I mentioned that I hate sewers?"

"Erm, yes. Many times, in fact. Now -"

"Good, okay. Bye!" Buffy rushed out of the library, leaving the door swinging wildly. She wasn't about to let her Watcher keep her from that much-needed shower any longer, no matter how terrifying the monster of the week may turn out to be.

**~#~**


	5. Clouds And Creatures

**A/N: **So, wow, apparently I lack the ability to update in a timely fashion. Thanks to everyone who is reading this little oddity, and especially to all the fantastic people who have left me such brilliant reviews.

* * *

><p><strong>Chapter Five - Clouds And Creatures<strong>

**~#~**

It was a wholly unremarkable building. With dull bricks - just the same as every other on the block - and very few people passing through the old wooden door, it went unnoticed by most that happened to walk by. The only distinguishing feature of this particular building was a chipped and faded sign with the name 'The Greedy Goblin' printed in golden lettering. A small, crude imagining of a goblin was etched beneath the words by an artist Hermione could only assume had never seen such a being in his life. She wasn't certain, of course, but Hermione had the distinct feeling that if any goblin was to see the sign they would not be especially pleased with the depiction. She shifted awkwardly and leant against the wall with a sigh - this was getting ridiculous. She'd been standing outside for the last twenty minutes trying to pluck up the courage to walk through that harmless wooden door. She was starting to feel incredibly silly. It would be slightly less ridiculous, Hermione supposed, had she not already walked by this spot at least three times in the past week. She glanced back down the street, wondering whether to even bother today. It was getting rather late, after all.

"Are you planning on actually _entering _the bar at any point?" A voice asked. Hermione jumped at the sound, and turned to find herself face to face with a man who looked to be in his early twenties.

She put a hand to her chest, eyes wide. "You startled me," she said.

"Sorry, that wasn't my intention," he winced. "I just noticed you've been staring at that sign for almost half an hour now."

"Oh, it hasn't been that long has it?"

"Well, maybe I exaggerated," he conceded. "A little."

"How did you know I've been out here so long, anyway?"

"I was watching you," he admitted, "through the window. Not in a strange stalker-ish kind of way, I promise. I was just curious. Why exactly are you hanging around out here? It makes far more sense to actually enter the bar. There's alcohol and seats that, while not entirely comfortable, would be a vast improvement on that wall, I'm sure."

"Is this where I need to be to make a floo-call? It is the correct pub, isn't it?" Hermione glanced up at the sign again.

"Of course it is. It's the only wizarding _pub _in town."

"Right," she said. She knew that.

"But you already knew that, didn't you?"

"No," she lied. "I didn't. I was worried about going inside and making a fool out of myself by asking to use the floo if it wasn't the right place."

"I'm sure that would be far more believable if I didn't know who you are," he said.

"Oh," she sighed, disappointed. "You know who I am?"

"Of course I know who you are - Hermione Granger. You're one of the most famous witches in the world right now." Of course she was. Why couldn't the newspapers ever just leave them alone?

"So that's why you came out to speak to me, then? Because you recognised me." That was oddly disappointing, she realised.

"Not at all. I saw a beautiful woman who seemed wary, maybe a little confused. Definitely in need of the help of a knight in shining armour," he preened, running a hand through his blond hair.

"And that would be you?" She laughed. "Sorry to disappoint, but I'm no damsel in distress. I was just a bit worried about entering the one place in this town where I was likely to be recognised. Too late, I suppose."

"I wouldn't worry about it. Half the riff-raff in there probably haven't read a paper in at least a decade. They won't have a clue who you are."

"And the other half?"

"Well, I'll just have to help you fend them off, won't I?"

"Well I can't see any white knights around, so I suppose you'll have to do," she said with a shrug.

"Charming," he laughed.

Hermione grinned as he led the way back towards the pub. "I have no idea what your name is," she realised.

"Daniel Cloud," he said.

"It's very nice to meet you, Daniel Cloud."

"You too, Hermione Granger."

"It's a little odd not having to introduce myself," she said.

"But it does make things much simpler, doesn't it?"

Hermione thought about that for a moment, before nodding slowly, "I suppose it does."

**~#~**

"Oh, it's good to see your face, my dear. We were beginning to worry about you," came the familiar voice of Minerva McGonagall, as Hermione poked her head through the fireplace.

"Sorry, Professor, I haven't had a chance to come by the pub before now," Hermione said.

"That's quite all right, Miss Granger. I am afraid, however, that I don't have much more than a moment to spare. I have a meeting which I must attend, unfortunately."

"Would you like me to call again tomorrow?" Hermione offered.

"Certainly. Does the same time tomorrow evening suit you?"

"Perfectly. I'll speak to you tomorrow, then. Goodnight, Professor."

"Good afternoon, Miss Granger."

Hermione smiled and pulled her head out of the fire, effectively ending the floo-call. She lounged on the floor for a moment, letting her body re-adjust. For some reason, sticking her head through the fireplace to have a conversation with someone always left her feeling a bit dizzy and disoriented. Pulling her wand from the holster she had attached to the inside of her shirt, Hermione muttered a few words to rid herself of the ash from the fire and make herself look a little more presentable before she ventured out of the room.

She walked slowly down the long wooden staircase, taking in the main area of the pub as she reached the bottom. Booths lined a large part of three walls, the large bar area off to one side, and an old-fashioned jukebox stood in one corner, an odd mix of muggle and wizard music spilling from the speakers. Hermione couldn't help but wonder how it worked in an environment so obviously filled with magic. It was simply fascinating. There were more people than she'd expected to see in the pub, most filling the booths, drinks covering the tables as they laughed loudly with one another. A few were playing pool while more played a wizarding variation of table football that seemed to be based on Quidditch. Hermione watched the game for a moment but was soon lost. She had played table football with her stepfather on numerous occasions, but this looked to be far more complicated - as Quidditch often was.

Tearing her gaze away from the increasingly confusing game, her attention was drawn to Daniel who was waving her over. "That was quick," he said as she perched on a stool at the bar. "Everything okay?"

"Fine - just bad timing."

"Ah, I see. Well then... would you like a drink?"

Hermione glanced at the clock over the bar, and shook her head. "Another time, perhaps. I have to meet my father, I'm sorry."

"Not a problem. I'm sure I'll be seeing you again."

"It was very nice to meet you, Daniel," she said.

"You as well, Hermione." Slinging her bag over her shoulder, she quickly headed for the door. She was supposed to meet her father almost twenty minutes ago. "And be careful out there after dark," Daniel called as she pulled open the heavy wooden door.

"I will," she said, and with a small wave made her way out into the cold evening.

**~#~**

The chill in the air forced Hermione to walk faster than usual, and she soon found herself in the corridors of Sunnydale High. It was somewhat eerie after hours, without the constant noise of chattering students and clanging locker doors.

She wasn't at all surprised to find Willow seated at the main table when she reached the library. Hermione was almost certain the redhead spent more time in the school library than she did in her own home. Xander and Cordelia filled the seats on the opposite side of the table, a mountain of books spread out in front of them, both looking somewhat lost as they flipped through page after page. Greeting the group seated at the table, Hermione wandered through to her father's office where he too sat in front of a haphazard pile of books. "Searching for something?"

"Hermione!" He said, startled. "I was beginning to wonder where you'd gotten to."

"Sorry, I got caught up down at the Greedy Goblin. What have you been up to all evening?" Hermione asked, glancing at the various tomes spread across the desk.

"Oh, uh, a little research is all. I found a reference to an old legend of a creature that sounds fascinating. Willow offered to help track down some more information on the legends using that dread machine of hers." Hermione smiled, quite used to her father's distaste for much of the modern technology. Computers, in particular, were not held in very high regard.

"So what does this creature look like? Anything I might have heard of?" She asked quietly. She enjoyed learning about the various creatures her father came across in his research. He'd never told her much about his job, to be honest, but he had always been researching myths and legends - uncovering the secrets of creatures believed to once have existed, and the incredible stories that went along with them.

"I'm not sure. We don't know too much about it yet. We know it's supposed to be covered in a fine layer of dark fur, with four claws on each appendage. It also has large, foldable wings."

"Nothing else?" Giles shook his head, wearily.

"Not just yet. I'm sure I have some other information from a book of legends, but I can't seem to find it."

"It sounds like a horrible-looking creature."

"It's supposed to be quite graceful actually. Beautiful in a rather unexpected manner, I suppose."

"It does sound oddly familiar, though I can't think why."

"I keep thinking the same thing myself. Not to worry, though. Myths and legends can wait until tomorrow, I think."

"What about -"

"Hermione, it's getting late. They're just stories - fascinating ones, I will admit, but still just stories."

Giles ushered her out of the office, informing Willow, Xander, and Cordelia that they should all call it a night and get some well-deserved rest. Cordelia was the first to jump to her feet, eager to be done with the musty old books. "Finally! Let's go home," Cordelia said.

Xander laughed at the brunette, who merely rolled her eyes in return.

"I always miss out on the fun bits," Hermione grumped. Xander looked at her as though she had three heads, while Willow nodded sympathetically.

"We're doing some more research tomorrow afternoon," the redhead offered, ignoring the groans of her friends. "You could come join us. If you want to, I mean."

"I'd love to," Hermione said. "But I have to call an old teacher back home who is helping me sort a few things out. I might come by afterwards, though, if that's okay?"

"Great!" Willow clapped enthusiastically. "That was a little too... excited, wasn't it?"

Xander tapped her shoulder gently, "Only a little."

"All right," Giles said, herding the teenagers out of his precious library. "Willow do you need a ride home?"

"Sure," she agreed. "Thanks Giles."

"And you two, make sure you get home quickly and safely, please."

"We aren't dead yet, G-man."

"Yes, well, I'd like to keep it that way," Giles replied, glaring at the boy.

Hermione watched Cordelia's bright red car tear out of the school car park, sighing as she climbed into the backseat of her father's Citroën. She and Willow shared commiserating looks as the little old car seemed to crawl along through the school gates.

Thank Merlin tomorrow was Saturday.

**~#~**


	6. Letters and Stitches

**Chapter Six - Letters and Stitches**

**~#~**

The weekend had passed quickly and uneventfully, in a blur of homework and relaxing with her father. Hermione had almost forgotten how much she enjoyed spending time with him. With everything that had happened in the last couple of years, however, it wasn't surprising. On Saturday, she'd managed to actually have her meeting with Professor McGonagall and together they had successfully planned for her studies over the coming weeks. She was to meet with each of her professors every two to three weeks via floo call, and the first meeting had been scheduled for Thursday.

Hermione was excited to be getting back into her magical studies as well as the muggle education she was receiving at Sunnydale High. Her enthusiasm for learning had, if anything, only been increased by her experiences in the war. She was no longer the naive little girl who believed books and knowledge were everything and that if she simply learnt enough she could make the world a better place, but that didn't mean she wouldn't try.

Now, it was Tuesday, and she was decidedly less enthusiastic about her education. The muggle side of it, at least. Just yesterday, Mrs. Gilder - her biology teacher - had assigned them groups for a project that would be due in a few weeks. The assignment itself wasn't especially difficult, but it would certainly be time consuming, and Hermione had her doubts about the work ethic of some of her teammates. She had been unlucky to be placed with two of the worst students in the class - Sally Trenton, who rarely showed up to class and never on time, and Becca Murin, the epitome of the ditzy blonde air-head. She often wondered how the pair had even been placed in the advanced class, though she _had_ held out hope that, perhaps, they weren't as bad as they seemed.

The group meeting she had just been forced to sit through, however, had proved her initial impressions of the pair to be annoyingly accurate.

Her only saving grace was that Cordelia had been assigned to the group, as well. The cheerleader was more than capable of pulling her weight in any assignment, and was just as determined as Hermione to get the best possible marks. She also had the enviable ability to make even the most irritating of group members sit down, shut up, and do their part.

Despite the group meeting being semi-successful - thanks, in large part, to Cordelia - Hermione was more than glad to see the back of the girls as they finished up for the evening. She ushered the truant and the ditz out the door as quickly as possible before saying a pleasant goodnight to Cordelia as she closed up. With a relieved sigh, Hermione flopped onto the couch, her thoughts drifting to evenings spent in the Gryffindor common room. She did wonder whether she had made the right choice in doing her seventh year externally rather than returning to Hogwarts with Ginny. She and the redhead had made surprisingly good study partners over the summer, when they had attempted to catch up on some of what they'd missed over the past year.

Hermione had actually been looking forward to sharing classes with Ginny for the first time, and being able to study with the younger girl, sprawled in front of the fire in the common room, surrounded by fellow students. Instead, she was doing twice the amount of work, spending many of her evenings alone in her father's tiny flat, and being forced to work with incompetent partners.

Hermione shook the negative thoughts from her mind. She'd made the decision for a reason, and she was determined to stick it out. Besides, the change of scenery couldn't hurt.

Thoughts of her friends spinning in her mind, Hermione gathered her parchment and a quill, deciding it was about time she wrote her friends.

A couple hours later, her letters complete and set aside, Hermione had dozed off. She was jolted awake when the phone rang loudly in the near-silent flat, scaring the wits out of her. A little bottle of ink that she had left open on the table beside her was knocked to the floor with her elbow, and Hermione cursed as she scrambled to stop the ink from spilling onto the carpet. Setting the bottle carefully on the table, Hermione rushed for the phone. "Hello?" She answered, flustered.

"Uh, Hermione?" The voice was familiar, but Hermione couldn't quite place it.

"Yes. Who is this?"

"Oh, good… It's Xander. Giles is in the hospital."

"What! What happened?"

"He, uh, was knocked out earlier tonight. It's nothing too serious, but he had to get a few stitches and the doctor wants to keep him in overnight for a concussion. I, uh, I just thought you should know." _And that's not serious?_ Hermione wondered.

"Thank you, Xander - really."

"Anytime," he said.

Hermione replaced the receiver, torn between concern and confusion as she grabbed her bag and headed for the hospital. Cordelia had mentioned something about her father getting knocked out a lot, but she hadn't quite believed it. Now, however, she might have to reconsider the truth in the cheerleader's words.

**~#~**

"Hey, Dad," Hermione said, grinning widely as she poked her head through the door of his hospital room the next morning.

"Mia," he said. "What are you doing here so early?" Hermione was surprised by the nickname- nobody had called her Mia in years. It was oddly comforting to hear it from her father now, however.

"I have to drop some letters off to the Greedy Goblin before school, but I wanted to see you first." She dropped into the chair beside his bed and pulled out a large book from her bag, placing it carefully on the side table. "I thought you might like something to read, since you're no doubt going crazy in here with nothing to do."

"The nurses were kind enough to offer some gossip magazines. They were... fascinating," he said, dryly.

"Oh, you enjoyed them really," she said, with a teasing smile. "I can't stay long, I'm afraid. I'll be back after school, though, and the doctor said he'll let you go this afternoon."

"Wonderful," he said.

Hermione didn't know how to respond, unsure if he was annoyed at the prospect of spending the rest of the day in hospital, or genuinely pleased that he would be able to go home that afternoon. "How's your head?" She asked instead.

"Much better, thank you," he said.

Hermione watched as he gently prodded the bandages of the back of his head, wincing slightly. "So what actually happened? You were sort of out of it last night."

"Ah, do you remember that colleague of mine who was here for a few days?"

"Yes."

"She was a little... mentally unstable. She apparently decided I was a threat and hit me over the head with a statue from my office."

"What!" Hermione's jaw dropped. What the hell kind of colleague was this woman?

"She ran off after she hit me and the police still haven't managed to track her down. Xander and Faith found me in my office a bit later. It's a good thing they decided to pop by when they did."

"Xander was the one who called me last night," she informed him, "I'll have to remember to thank them later. They saved your life."

"Yes, well," he cleared his throat awkwardly, and glanced at the clock on the opposite wall. "Hadn't you better be going if you want to stop by the pub?"

Hermione checked her watch, surprised at how quickly the time had passed. "Yes, I suppose I better." She leaned in to give her father a hug, "I'll see you this afternoon. Be nice to the nurses - they control your medication."

**~#~**

"Daniel," said Hermione, as she stepped up to the bar in the Greedy Goblin. "How do you always seem to be here whenever I stop by?"

"I own the place, Hermione. I'm here all the time." He leaned against the far bench, wiping up glasses.

"But... Don't you ever sleep?"

"Anyone would think it was a hardship seeing me all the time, Hermione. Here I was thinking you stopped by just to see me," said Daniel, holding his hand to his chest in mock pain.

"Actually, I just came to drop these off." She pulled the neatly wrapped bundle of letters from her bag, placing them on the counter. "Do you send mail off today?"

"We send and receive every day. That's the benefit of floo post. These will go out in this afternoon's load."

"That's fantastic," she said, grinning. "Now I suppose I'll have to come back and see you every day until I get replies."

"As if you needed an excuse," said Daniel.

"I have to go or I'll be late for class," Hermione said. "I'm sorry, I didn't realise how late it was getting." She wasn't sure when she'd become so time-challenged. Perhaps it was a California thing.

"Go on, I'll see you tomorrow, I suspect."

Hermione made her way quickly to the school, surprised to make it onto the grounds with time to spare. She spotted Willow and Xander just exiting the library as she made her way down the hall and joined them on their way to class.

She'd definitely made the right choice, she decided. Sunnydale was a great change of pace from Hogwarts, and she was already making friends here.

Plus, at least this way she could keep an eye on her father and his penchant for head injuries.

**~#~**

* * *

><p><strong>AN:** Yeah, I suck. Three months with no updates! I'm a horrible person. Thank you so much to everyone that is still reading this despite the lack of updates recently. To everyone who has reviewed, I will respond to your reviews if I haven't already. And to all those awesome people who have put this on alert or favourite - you rock! In an attempt to atone for my dreadful updating, I hope to post chapter seven in the next couple of days. After that, updates will probably return to 'insanely erratic', so I apologise in advance.

Reviews are always appreciated, and I welcome constructive criticism as I'd quite like to know if something I'm doing is really quite bad.


	7. Ups and Downs

**Chapter Seven - Ups and Downs**

**~#~**

Thursday was going to be a long day, Hermione knew. She hadn't had a lot of sleep, waking up far earlier than necessary, and the hours she had managed were plagued by dreams. Nightmares, really. She had escaped the war largely unscathed, both physically and mentally, but there were nights when her mind refused to turn to anything else and she found herself reliving some of the more horrifying moments. It wasn't the most pleasant of experiences, usually leaving her drenched in sweat, breathing heavily, and clutching her wand tightly as she peered into the shadows of her darkened room in fear, wondering whether someone was going to attack her. Thankfully, those nights were few and far between, and seemed to be occurring less frequently as the war receded further into the past.

Realising she had little chance of getting any more sleep, Hermione headed for the shower quietly. She hoped the warm water would not only wake her up a little more, but also wash away the remnants of the nightmares still swirling in her mind.

Half an hour later, Hermione emerged from the bathroom, with her hair frizzing uncontrollably but feeling more human than when she had woken. She knew the nightmares or, more specifically, her reaction to the nightmares was far from healthy, but she was dealing with it. She was Hermione Granger; she wasn't going to let some silly dreams hold her back.

Checking her father was still asleep, she gathered her books and made her way through to the lounge - her favourite place to study. She liked to spread her books over the coffee table and sit on the floor, back pressed against her father's couch, while one of his old records played softly in the corner of the room.

Conscious of the early hour and her father sleeping just down the hall, Hermione put a record on to play very quietly. The familiar tune cutting softly through the eerie silence of the early morning made the room feel a lot more welcoming, and Hermione relaxed slightly as she sat down to make use of her sleep-less hours.

By the time her father emerged from his bedroom, just after seven, Hermione had made a large dent in her Hogwarts studies.

"You're up early," he said, with a frown. "Is everything all right?"

"Fine," said Hermione, "just a bad dream. I couldn't get back to sleep, so I thought I'd do something useful, instead."

He peered at her closely as he came to sit on the lounge beside her, nursing a warm cup of tea. "Nightmares? Does this happen a lot?"

"Not very often, no."

"But they're bad enough that you can't sleep afterwards?"

"Honestly, they're not that bad. I just have a hard time getting back to sleep when I wake up in the morning."

"Would you like to tell me what they're about?"

"Nothing in particular," she said, "just your generic bad dreams - monsters and bad guys and whatnot."

"Hermione..."

"I'm fine. Really."

"One day, you're going to tell me what really happened in that school of yours," he said, with a sigh. Clearly, he didn't believe her.

Hermione felt a little guilty. She had kept him in the dark all these years, never really telling him the full extent of what was going on in the wizarding world. In fact, he didn't even know that she had sent her mother and step-father, Neil, to Australia without their memories. He rarely had anything to do with her mother anymore, so she simply told him that she and Neil had made the decision to move to Australia. It hadn't occurred to her that he might suspect she was hiding something from him, that he might be concerned. She would have to tell him the truth soon, she realised, or else he might just start digging.

"Otherwise," her father added, "I'll have to contact your mother and get the story out of her."

"She doesn't know anything," Hermione said quickly, panic briefly flooding her body at the thought of him attempting to contact her mother. "I didn't tell her anything more than I told you."

He stared at her for a moment, and Hermione held his gaze. Finally, he looked away, with a shake of his head. "I don't know why you're keeping this from me, Hermione, but I hope you realise that you can trust me."

"Of course I trust you, you're my dad!" She cried, shocked. "I just... I don't like to talk about all of that."

They sat in silence for a moment, her father sipping his tea. "You're not going to work today, are you?" She asked, in an effort to shift the focus onto her father.

"Hermione, I already had yesterday off, there is no reason not to go in today."

"You were hit over the head and ended up with a concussion. Surely, that should allow you at least a couple of days off work."

"I'm afraid Snyder is unlikely to agree with you," he said.

"Disagreeable little man," said Hermione. She really didn't like the principal of Sunnydale High. The sight of the little rodent reminded her disturbingly of Pettigrew, and made her wish for a headmaster like Dumbledore. Sure, the old man had been a little mad, and Hermione still wasn't pleased with the way he'd manipulated certain events - and people - but overall he had been a good man and a fantastic headmaster. Snyder was just irritating and incompetent. Sort of like Umbridge, now that she thought about it. Unfortunately, for everyone, Hermione couldn't trick Snyder into a forest full of angry centaurs. She, and the rest of the school, would just have to continue to suffer his presence.

"Yes, he is," Giles agreed as he disappeared into his bedroom to prepare for the day ahead.

**~#~**

Her morning class was dull. Her floo meeting, however, went rather well. She'd met with Professors Flitwick and Cramley, and spent an enjoyable morning discussing charms and arithmancy. Both of her professors seemed impressed by the progress she was making in her studies, and Hermione was thrilled. She had been a little worried she wouldn't be able to keep up with the workload, after all. Flitwick and Cramley had each set her tasks to be completed for discussion in their next meeting, before bidding her a good afternoon.

She'd rushed out of the pub after her meetings, thanking Suzie - the bartender - for the lunch she'd provided and asking her to let Daniel know she'd be in later that afternoon. By the time she had returned to the school, she was running a little later than she would have liked, but was pleased to make it to her next class just before the teacher.

The rest of the day seemed to pass painfully slowly, but Hermione did her best to pay attention in her classes. As the bell rang, she made plans with her group mates for another meeting the next afternoon, and shuffled out of the biology room gratefully. Never in her life had she been as pleased to see the end of a school day. She swung by the library to see her father, informing him of her intentions to stop by the Greedy Goblin to check for post, and possibly have a drink with Daniel. Her father was understandably less than thrilled by the idea of her having a drink with a pub owner he knew very little about. Hermione ignored her father's protests, however, reminding him that she was perfectly capable of taking care of herself.

**~#~**

By the time she entered the familiar pub, Hermione was humming happily to herself, much to the amusement of Daniel who was just delivering a meal to a table by the door. She blushed when she caught him laughing at her, and followed him back to the bar. She propped herself up on one of the high barstools - honestly, had short people never been taken into account when these things were designed? - staring after Daniel as he disappeared out the back. He returned a moment later with a stack of letters and Hermione was surprised to discover they were all for her. It was unlike her friends to reply so promptly to any of her letters. Even more surprising was the letter which bore Professor McGonagall's distinct penmanship and emerald ink. Why would McGonagall be writing her when they had another floo meeting scheduled for Saturday? She pried open the letter carefully, and skimmed over the contents, her stomach dropping with each word. She ripped open the rest of the letters, her gaze skipping to the bottom where each mentioned the accident and promised her they would keep her updated.

"Hey, are you all right?" Tears pricked her eyes and she shook her head.

"A friend from back home is in St Mungo's - it's a wizarding hospital in the centre of London," she added at Daniel's confused look. "She touched a cursed ornament and hasn't woken since."

"I'm sorry," said Daniel. "Is there anything I can do?"

Hermione shook her head with a sigh, shuffling through the letters. "There isn't even anything _I _can do. They all say the same thing - Andromeda's getting the best care, and they'll let me know when something changes."

"Well, how about a drink then? To take your mind off things," he added, setting a glass in front of her. "Ogden's finest."

She accepted the drink with a grateful smile, sipping it slowly. She'd been surprised a year ago to discover she quite liked the taste of firewhiskey, and welcomed the familiar warmth that flooded her body with every sip.

Firewhiskey wasn't much different to muggle whiskey as far as Hermione could tell, though the brewing process was undoubtedly different and the drink had a distinct red colour compared to the amber of its muggle counterpart. Ogden's, in particular, was almost crimson, and Hermione had been fascinated by the great difference in shades between brewers.

She rarely indulged in the harder liquors produced by the wizarding world, however, preferring the 'fruity drinks' as her friends called them.

"Are you close to this Andromeda?" Daniel asked, leaning across the bar to speak to her in hushed tones.

"She's the mother of a friend who died in the war," said Hermione. The older woman had become like family to the group over the months following the war. All of them had spent a lot of time with her grandson, Teddy, over the summer, playing games with the little boy and reveling in his innocence. There wasn't a lot of innocence to be found in the wake of the war, and so they thoroughly enjoyed the time spent with the boy - even when he did run them ragged. "We became very close over the last few months," she explained.

The letters had all been quick to inform her that Teddy was fine and in good hands, and that there was no need for her to worry - Andromeda would surely be back to her old self in no time. She found that a little hard to believe considering the letters had mentioned the healers had yet to determine what curse had been placed on the object. Hermione shook the thoughts from her mind. The letters were right - there was nothing for her to do except wait and see how things progressed.

A tall wizard at the other end of the bar waved Daniel over, and Hermione gave him a quick smile, ushering him away. "Go. Work. I'm fine."

"I'll be right back," he promised, patting her hand gently.

Glass still clutched in one hand, Hermione pulled Harry's letter back in front of her. She laughed quietly to herself as she read through the tales of his escapades in the training program. He, Ron, and Neville had taken up the offer from the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, to go straight into the Auror program instead of returning to Hogwarts. She was glad that the boys were enjoying themselves, even if it did sound like they were getting into some brand new trouble.

Hermione glanced down the bar where Daniel was still busy serving customers.

"Mini-Giles, right?" Hermione was startled by the voice that came from her left, and turned to see the dark-haired girl from the school library. Grace? Hope? Merlin, what was her name? "Faith," the girl said, grinning.

"I'm sorry?"

"You look confused. Name's Faith, we met the other week - school library."

"Yes, I remember you," said Hermione, "It's a little hard to forget sword fighting in the school library on your first day."

"Fair enough." Faith took the stool next to Hermione's. "Dad know you're here?"

"Of course."

"Drink?"

"I should probably be getting home."

"You're gonna walk home by yourself?"

"Yes. What of it?"

"Sunnydale ain't exactly what you'd call safe after dark, mini-Giles. Stay for a drink. I'll walk you home after."

"My name is _Hermione_, and I'm perfectly capable of taking care of myself, thank you." She gathered her letters up and tucked them into her bag, standing as if to leave.

"Suit yourself. Just look like you could do with a drink is all," said Faith, with a shrug. "What's the deal with this place, anyway? You know? 'Cause I been here before and they don't card."

"What do you mean?"

"I ain't twenty-one, Frizz - in case you haven't noticed." Hermione scowled at the nickname, no more impressed than she had been by 'mini-Giles'.

"You're seventeen though, right?"

"Yeah, a few weeks ago. How'd you know?"

"This place wouldn't let you in without special permission if you were underage."

"What's that even mean? What kinda place is this?"

Hermione propped herself back up on her stool and stared at the younger girl. "Why are you here?"

"Didn't you hear me? _They don't card_. Only place I can get a decent drink in this town without being surrounded by, uh, whack-jobs... Even if they do got some weird-ass drinks in here." Faith hadn't shown any sign of being a witch, she hadn't recognised Hermione, and she didn't seem to have cottoned on to the fact that she was in a wizarding establishment. Yet, she could see the pub. Hermione was intrigued.

She waved Daniel over and the blond appeared in front of them a moment later with a smile. "Two more Ogden's, please."

"Coming right up."

"Daniel, this is Faith. Faith, Daniel."

"Hey."

"Pleasure to meet you, Faith."

"Same."

"Talkative, this one," Daniel said quietly, to Hermione. "Are you all right?"

"I'm fine," she assured him with a soft smile. Strange how this man had somehow become someone she felt she could confide in after only a couple weeks. It was nice to have someone around who knew the basics of the war, but didn't treat her like some kind of fragile hero who needed to be worshipped and protected. That kind of attitude had gotten old very fast back home.

Faith took a long swig of the firewhiskey placed before her, and Hermione held back a laugh at the look of surprise on the girl's face when the trademark warmth of the drink flooded her body. "Damn, what is this stuff?"

"Ogden's firewhiskey," said Daniel. "You girls staying a while?"

"Got nowhere else to be. How 'bout you, Frizz?"

Hermione glared at the leather-clad girl, "Must you call me that?"

"Yeah."

"Fine. I suppose I can stay for a while."

"Great. There's a booth in the back that's just opened up, and dinner's on me," said Daniel, grinning.

"Hey now, no one said anything about dinner."

"You're going to turn down a free meal?"

"Well, no."

"Good. I'll join the two of you as soon as Suzie gets here to cover me."

Hermione shook her head at the man, knowing he wouldn't take no for an answer. They placed their dinner orders with Daniel and headed for the booth that he'd pointed out.

"So, you spend a lot of time in this place?" Faith asked as she settled across the table from Hermione.

"A bit."

"You seem to know the barkeep pretty well."

"Daniel? He's a friend."

"Mmhmm. Friend." Faith shrugged. "If you say so."

"Can I just ask... have you ever had anything strange happen to you?"

"Strange, how?"

"Like... magic."

"When I was a kid, there was this one time - one minute my math teacher was raggin' on me 'bout some homework or somethin' and the next he was bright blue. Like a smurf, ya know? He's hangin' from the ceiling, all smurf-like and the whole class is just laughin'. Don't know what happened, but I got stuck with another week of detentions 'cause of it."

"Did you, by any chance, get a letter when you were eleven, inviting you to a, uh, magic school?"

"Yeah. Well, I was seven, and there was this weird-looking letter saying about some magic stuff. My mom said she weren't paying a ton of money to send me to some fancy-pants freak school. I always thought it was a prank. You tellin' me that was real?"

"I think so. You shouldn't be able to see this place, Faith. It's a wizarding pub - it has enchantments on it to make it invisible to muggles."

"I dunno what any of that means. Don't matter anyway; nothin' else weird happened since, least not 'til Professor Dormer found me."

"Professor Dormer? Was he a magic school teacher?"

"She. And, no. At least, not as far as I know. She just... She was a mentor, I guess. She helped me figure some stuff out. I ended up in Sunnydale 'cause of her," said Faith. "You go to one of these 'magic schools' then?"

"Yes, actually. I got a letter when I turned eleven, and started the following September. Just don't... Please don't tell anyone about this. It's not something I like to share."

"Who am I gonna tell, Frizz?"

"I don't know. I guess I'm just a little paranoid. This town seems so nice but I guess I'm still just a little jumpy. The last couple of years haven't been the greatest, you know?"

"Oh, I get that."

"So, wh-" Faith started, only to be interrupted by Suzie appearing beside their table.

"Here ya go, girls," she said, grinning as she placed two huge plates of food on the table. "Daniel will be out in a mo', he's just finishing up his own dinner."

"Thanks, Suzie." Hermione smiled at the young woman, and chatted with her for a moment before the bartender was waved over to another table.

Both Hermione and Faith dug into their meals gratefully neither bothered with continuing their conversation for the moment. Daniel slid in next to Hermione a few minutes later and the three ate in peace for a little while. It was Faith that finally broke the silence, having plowed through her entire meal in the time it had taken Hermione to eat less than half of her own food. "So, Danny-boy, ever get any really strange people stumble in here?" She asked.

"As a matter of fact, there was this really strange guy wandered in here a few months ago," he started, launching into a story that had both girls in stitches. The next hour was spent in much the same manner, the three swapping silly stories. By the time Daniel had to return to tend the bar with Suzie, Hermione had tears in her eyes from laughing so hard, and Faith fared little better. They had another couple drinks as the night wore on, still talking about nothing of any consequence, before Hermione decided it was probably time to be heading home.

Wishing Daniel and Suzie a goodnight, Faith kept her promise to escort Hermione home, and the two stumbled into Hermione's room a little later, collapsing on the bed. Neither was especially drunk, just exhausted from a long day and a good night.

"Ugh, I can't be bothered to go back to that fleabag motel," Faith muttered. "Mind if I crash on your floor? I'll be gone 'fore you even wake up in the morning."

"Take the bed, I'll take the couch."

"I'm not kicking you out of your own bed, Frizz."

"Fine. Then just get up here and go to sleep. I have school in the morning, and I just know I'm going to regret those drinks, so I'd really like to get some sleep now."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. Come on."

Hermione felt her eyes growing heavy even as faint snores issued from the girl beside her, who had fallen asleep the moment she lay her head on the pillow.

It was only as she was drifting off that Hermione realised she'd left her book-bag at the Greedy Goblin. Oh well, she'd just have to go back tomorrow.

**~#~**


	8. That You, Shamu?

**Chapter Eight - That You, Shamu?**

**~#~ **

Faith strode into the library the following afternoon to find the others had already gathered around the main table. Buffy, Willow, and Oz were sitting on one side, discussing some homework assignment from a class they shared - she really didn't care to know any more about that. Xander and Cordelia, meanwhile, were huddled over on the stairs engaged in what looked to be a hushed argument. Faith definitely wasn't going anywhere near that one.

Deciding her safest position would be her favourite spot - leaning up against the weapons cage - she settled in to wait for Giles to start his little lecture. Or whatever he had in mind for today. He had been standing behind the counter, furiously cleaning his glasses the entire time since Faith had entered the room. She could only assume he had something important to share. Faith just hoped the news wasn't of the apocalyptic variety.

Finally, Giles cleared his throat and moved to stand in front of the raggedly assembled teens, his expression serious. "The demon you encountered last week was of a species of Strider Demon, commonly known as a Salmuzu. Based on my research it seems there may well be more in town."

"Okay, so how do we kill 'em?" Asked Faith, always straight to the point.

"The Salmuzi are the largest of the Strider Demons, but they're also the least likely to cause problems. Strider Demons, on the whole, are typically non-violent, and Salmuzi are particularly docile."

"Then why did it try to rip us to pieces, Giles?"

"Honestly? I'm not entirely sure. I suspect it has something to do with the Hellmouth, and possibly a reaction to a perceived threat."

"You mean us," Buffy guessed. "Faith and I."

"Many demons react negatively to the presence of a Slayer, yes. You are their natural predators. It stands to reason that sensing you could have… Set them off, as it were. The demon most likely reacted out of fear, Buffy."

"Then what do we do?"

"Avoid them," he said firmly. Both Slayers made to object, but Giles raised a hand to silence the pair. "Seeking them out may only make matters worse. They usually travel in groups, and if you come up against them again, you may find yourselves severely outnumbered. I'm surprised you only faced the one that night. If we're lucky, they'll just be passing through town. If, however, they do intend to stay on a more permanent basis, avoiding them for the time being will, at the very least, give us a chance to determine another way to deal with them."

"But, Giles, what if the Shamu -"

"Salmuzu," he corrected.

"Salmuzu?" A voice chimed in, and the entire group looked surprised at the entrance. Faith almost smiled at the odd look Hermione was sending in her direction. It was damn nice to have someone around who had replaced her as the newest member of the group. Nice to know she wasn't the only one being left out of things - she and Frizz may not have a lot in common, but they had that. "I've heard of those. Did you finally track down that legend you were looking for?"

"Uh, yes, in fact. What are you doing here? I thought you had another meeting this afternoon?"

"I did. It finished." Giles looked confused. "It's nearly five, Dad."

Giles looked at his watch in surprise. "So it is."

"You know, my friend Luna has mentioned the Salmuzu before. Must be where I recognised the description from. Of course, Luna thinks they're real and would quite like one as a pet," Hermione said with a laugh. She didn't seem to notice that she was the only one laughing.

"Really? Does this Luna know a lot about these creatures then?"

"Well, I think so, yes."

"Fascinating," said Giles.

While the rest of the group returned to their own conversations, Faith's gaze followed Hermione and Giles. She watched the pair closely as they moved off to chat about the demon. They were so alike, it was astounding. Hermione mirrored her father's stance, and the way each fidgeted as they spoke was eerily similar. Giles looked very interested, while Hermione looked both bemused and suspicious. They'd have to watch that if they wanted to keep mini-Giles out of the whole supernatural shebang.

**~#~**

After her father had finished quizzing her on her knowledge of the Salmuzi, Hermione had promised to ask Luna to send her any information she had on the creatures. She had watched her father disappear off into his office, muttering about something as he began to clean his glasses. Unsure of whether her father had any more questions for her, Hermione pulled up a stool behind the counter and glanced around at the odd group assembled in the library - she still sometimes wondered how such a mismatched group had ended up as close as this lot. She noticed Faith off to the side and wondered whether it would be worth it to ask the younger girl about her disappearing act that morning. She was well aware, of course, that Faith had promised to be gone before either Hermione or her father would be awake in the morning, but she hadn't really paid much attention to it. She had been surprised to discover that Faith had disappeared before dawn, true to her word.

"Can I ask you somethin'?" Hermione glanced back up at the younger girl, not particularly surprised to find her now standing before her instead of by the cage where she had been only a moment ago.

"Of course," she said.

"So, you said I'm magic, right? Some kind of witch or somethin'..." Hermione shot a nervous glance at the group around the table, before turning her attention back to Faith. The rest of them were too busy arguing amongst themselves to pay any attention to their conversation.

"Yes, I believe you are most likely a witch," she said. "There's simply no other explanation for it. You shouldn't even be able to see the Greedy Goblin, Faith, let alone enter it."

"Right, but see, I don't have any powers. Shouldn't I be able to, you know, levitate things with my mind, or read other people's minds, or blow shit up or somethin'?"

"Our magic doesn't quite work like that," Hermione said, grinning. "Although, eventually you can learn to do all of those things and more - it just takes a while, and considering you've had no formal training it's probably going to take a lot longer."

"But wouldn't I have noticed somethin' this big a whole lot sooner?" Faith asked.

"Generally, yes. You exhibited accidental magic as a child and you received a letter inviting you to study at a magic school, and yet your powers don't seem to have grown or become unmanageable over the years as is the norm for people who are not taught how to control their magic. It's a very unusual situation."

"So basically what you're sayin' is you have no idea..."

"Er, yes, something like that."

"I don't s'pose you know anyone who might?"

"You want me to look into this?"

Faith seemed surprised she would even ask. "'Course. I might have a chance to do _magic_. You think I'm gonna pass that up?"

"I just wanted to be sure," Hermione said, smiling at Faith's enthusiasm. "You left quite early this morning."

"Said I'd be gone 'fore you or Giles woke up. Didn't wanna overstay my welcome."

"I didn't think you were serious. You could have stayed for breakfast, if you wanted. Where exactly are you living? You said something about a flea bag motel, but honestly, I was half asleep by that point."

"Sunnydale Motor Inn. Finest low-budget accommodation in all of Sunnydale, 'ccording to their sign. It's a dump, but it's home for now," said Faith. She looked uncomfortable talking about her less-than-stellar accommodations. Hermione shifted awkwardly, trying to think of a way to shift the topic of conversation to something less awkward for the both of them.

"You two in?" Xander questioned from his perch on the table. She noticed that the other four were looking at her and Faith expectantly. Hermione glanced at Faith in confusion, but the other girl seemed just as uninformed.

"Sorry?"

"Bronze. Tonight. You coming?"

"I'm there," Faith said, grinning.

"Oh, er, I have a lot of schoolwork to get caught up on."

"It's Friday night, Frizz. You can take one night off. Have some fun."

"I... Oh, fine," said Hermione.

"That's the spirit. Could do with a little more enthusiasm, but we'll work on that. I'll swing by your place on my way, yeah? Say, eight?"

"I'm sure I can find my own way, Faith."

"_So _not a good idea," Buffy piped up. "Sunnydale isn't exactly safe after dark."

"Yeah, we have a, uh, gang problem. Gangs on PCP. Big problem." She was certain she hadn't seen signs of gang violence in the little town, but the others were agreeing with Xander's explanation.

"I suppose some company would be nice," she conceded. Faith nodded, and the rest of the group made plans to meet a little after eight before heading out to their respective homes.

Hermione stayed behind, perching herself on the table as some of the others had been earlier and picked up one of the mythology books still scattered across its surface. For a group of people who, for the most part, weren't hugely interested in schooling, they sure spent a lot of time researching seemingly random creatures and myths. Maybe it was their shared interest in myths and legends that had drawn the group together in the first place. It seemed as likely an explanation as any other for the odd grouping. "You ready to go, Dad?"

"Just a moment," he replied, his voice muffled. He emerged from his office a couple of minutes later carrying an enormous pile of books. Hermione hopped down from the table, rushing to grab a few off the top.

"You could have asked for a hand, you know."

"I, uh, it didn't occur to me," he admitted, sheepishly, leading the way out to the staff carpark. "You're going to the Bronze with Xander and the girls tonight?"

"Yes. Faith said I needed to have fun for once. One of them mentioned something about dingoes playing. Do you know what that means?"

"Oz's band. They're, well... Willow likes to be there for moral support, I believe."

"Oh."

"How are you getting there?"

"Walking. With Faith," she added at his alarmed look.

"Good, good. Just be careful."

"Of course. Speaking of Faith, do you know where she's living?"

"A motel, I think Buffy said."

"I don't think it's a very nice place for her to be living. She's seventeen, Dad, and only just, and she's living by herself in a crummy motel," she said.

"I'm sure Faith would mention if there was something wrong with her accommodations, Hermione. She's not one to be shy, is she?"

"Well, no, but -"

"I will speak to Faith about her living conditions, if you like, but I'm sure she's just fine." Her father opened the boot of the old Citroen, piling the books inside as he spoke.

"I just want to be sure she's okay," said Hermione, carefully placing her own pile beside his.

"I know," he said, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. "I'm glad you're watching out for her. Faith seems so strong it's hard to remember sometimes that she's only a girl who might need help at times. I promise I'll look into it."

"Thank you."

**~#~**

**A/N**: Another ridiculously long wait. I suppose I did say my updates would be erratic, I just never meant this much. I've had half this chapter written for ages, but I got stuck somewhere along the way and it wasn't until today that I managed to actually finish it. Thanks muchly to those who have reviewed - it does motivate me, I swear. If anyone has reviewed and hasn't received a response from me, I apologise. I've been having a few issues with sending responses, but I do appreciate the time you took to review. If you're still following this story, have heart - I will not abandon it! But it might take a while to get it finished. I will update again (relatively) soon, I hope. Cheers :)


	9. Strange Meetings

**Chapter Nine – Strange Meetings**

**~#~**

Another weekend had passed quickly amid Faith's pleas for another night out. Hermione had turned down each invitation, citing an increasing pile of school work she needed to catch up on and pointing out that she had spent both Thursday and Friday nights out with the younger girl. Hermione had considered that something of an achievement for herself. She knew she sometimes got too caught up in what she was supposed to be doing and forgot to just enjoy herself. Her friends had certainly told her as much.

Since deciding to spend this year with her father, Hermione had made the effort to distance herself somewhat from the girl she had been during her years at Hogwarts. She wasn't ashamed of who she was - she truly enjoyed learning and didn't see anything wrong with that. However, she did recognise that sometimes she went a little overboard. Studying 20 hours a day and skipping meals (because she just didn't have time to remember to eat!) was neither healthy nor particularly sane, as her friends had frequently informed her. Now she had a clean slate. These people didn't know the old Hermione - didn't know she was famous, or Harry Potter's best friend, or that she had a reputation as an elf-loving bookworm who was too smart for her own good.

Here she was just Hermione, that new kid, or even just the librarian's daughter.

The anonymity alone was a relief.

Still concerned about Faith's living conditions, Hermione had invited her to spend the weekend at her place, promising access to all of her magic textbooks from her early years at Hogwarts. Despite balking at the idea of spending the weekend in Giles' tiny apartment, Faith had jumped at the chance to get her hands on the magic texts. Giles had seemed a little surprised to return from running errands on Saturday afternoon to find the pair of them sprawled on his living room floor, furniture pushed to the side and textbooks surrounding them, but had simply collected some books of his own and headed back out.

Hermione had worked through each of her assignments methodically and efficiently, while Faith started in on learning the basics. Hermione had answered every question Faith had asked, and was more than a little impressed by the questions themselves, as well as the speed with which she seemed to read and absorb the knowledge. She had a feeling that, in terms of magical tuition, at least, Faith was going to be a model student - eager to learn, full of enthusiasm, and certainly smart enough to make the process run smooth. Hermione was simply thrilled to find someone as excited by the thought of learning magic as she herself had been when first informed of the wizarding world, and it had made her weekend all the more enjoyable.

The letter she had received Monday afternoon in the floo had only improved her good mood. After a few days with no news, Harry had written to say Andromeda was responding to the potions she had been given to counteract the curse. She was expected to be released from St. Mungo's in a couple days with no lasting effects, except for an occasional ringing in her ears. She was more than a little relieved to hear that the older woman was going to be just fine, and she could only imagine how Harry and Ginny must be feeling. They loved Teddy, certainly, but the idea that they would be raising the little boy themselves at such a young age was a daunting prospect at best. Not to mention the close relationship the pair had developed with Andromeda, more so than any of the others.

Tuesday had dawned bright and beautiful, and it was with a lightened heart that Hermione went about her morning rituals. She even had a pile of pancakes waiting for her father as he stumbled through looking a little ragged. She wished him a good day as they parted at the school's entrance and Hermione went in search of Cordelia before class. She found the brunette arguing lightly with Xander before they separated to head in different directions. Cordelia shared Hermione's first period biology class, while Xander's first class was at the other end of the building.

"Cordelia!" Hermione hurried down the hall after the girl. "I was hoping we could plan another meeting either this afternoon or tomorrow. There's a few things I think we need to go over with Sally and Becca before we make a start on the final draft."

"They haven't screwed something else up, have they?"

"Not exactly."

"Fantastic. Tomorrow will have to do, I guess. I can't do tonight - Xander's convinced me to go on a 'double bowling date' with Willow and Oz. I mean, bowling? Do I look like a girl who enjoys _bowling_?"

Hermione laughed, "I'm sure you'll have a great time anyway, Cordelia."

"I sure hope so. Meeting tomorrow then?"

"Absolutely. I'll let Sally and Becca know, if you like."

"Please, yes. The less I have to speak to those losers, the better."

**~#~**

She accompanied her father to Sunnydale airport that afternoon, having agreed to drop him off and return his car to his flat so he didn't have to pay for a week of airport parking while away at his retreat. He had even offered her use of his car for the week, so long as she was incredibly careful. It _was _a classic, as he so often informed her. She, jokingly, had returned that she could probably walk everywhere faster than his_ classic car _could get her there, but had thanked him for the offer regardless.

"Did you speak to Faith?" Hermione asked, deciding to take advantage of her father being unable to run away from her questions whilst driving. Her father sighed, glancing at her in annoyance. She winced as she realised she must have really been annoying him over the last few days with her constant questions about Faith.

"Yes, Hermione, I spoke to Faith," he said. "She tells me her accommodations are just fine. In fact, she seemed annoyed I would even ask."

"Well then she's lying."

"Hermione -"

"No, you're not listening to me. She is seventeen, she has no one in this world except us and your _mythology_ _group_, and no one seems to care that she's living all alone in some rat-infested motel room."

"What exactly do you expect me to do about it? Faith will not accept charity. She says she's happy where she is, and I have to respect that."

"No, you don't! She can stay with us."

"Hermione," Giles shook his head, pausing as he stepped out of the car. Hermione followed suit, not wanting to allow the conversation to drop. He sighed as she met him behind the car, a familiar expression of determination on her face. "There's barely enough room for the two of us in my flat, I can't imagine Faith is going to enjoy living in such close quarters with the both of us."

He had a point, she realised, but there had to be some way.

"Then help me find somewhere else for her to go," she pleaded. "There must be someone who can offer her a place to stay, even temporarily."

"All right," he said. "I'll speak to the girls when I return. One of them might be able to put her up for a little while."

"Thank you!" Hermione grinned, hugging her father tightly before helping him unload his luggage from the tiny boot of the Citroen.

"Yes, yes, alright," he said, smiling at her in amusement.

"Are you sure you don't want me to come in with you?" She asked, for the third time.

"I'm sure I can manage, Hermione. Now, you -"

"_Take good care of your precious car_. I _know_, Dad. I promise nothing horrible will befall your Citroen."

"Very well," he nodded, still appearing uncertain. "Take care of yourself as well then, and I shall contact you with my flight details in a week's time."

"Have a good retreat," said Hermione, waving him off.

She waited until he had passed through the doors into the airport proper before sliding into the driver's seat and heading home.

**~#~**

The flat was quiet, and she was terribly bored. She had managed to catch up on the muggle schoolwork rather quickly, and her magical studies were coming along nicely, so she wasn't weighed down with piles of homework for once. Besides, if she was honest, she didn't particularly feel like spending the evening reading after the marathon study weekend she had shared with Faith.

However, with Cordelia out for the night, and Faith nowhere to be found, she had few options for entertainment on a Tuesday evening. Unable to think of a better option, Hermione decided to head into town and have a browse through the high street. Her father didn't live too far from the town center, so Hermione opted to walk the short distance to the shopping district rather than risk her father's - very slow - vehicle.

Christmas was only a few weeks away and she'd yet to even consider what gifts she would be giving this year. Christmas had always been one of her favourite times of the year. She always got to see her dad, as well as spending time with her mum and Neil. However, Christmas carols and the beautiful light displays were the real highlight of the season, in Hermione's eyes.

As she wandered along the main street of Sunnydale, she noticed that unlike back home most of the shop-fronts were decorated with what she could only assume were Thanksgiving decorations, rather than the usual Christmas fare she would expect at this time of year.

She ducked into a few little shops, taking note of trinkets here and there that she thought might appeal to various people she knew. She purchased a few things and was soon hauling bags of gifts she hadn't intended to buy that evening. She found herself a victim of impulse buying yet again, and was beginning to think she ought to have driven here, after all.

"Hermione!" She heard a familiar voice call from the other side of the street.

"Daniel? You're not in the pub," Hermione gasped in mock surprise, as he jogged over to join her.

"I do occasionally venture out," he laughed.

"What are you doing here?" She asked, steering them towards a bench in order to avoid the bustle of the crowds hurrying along the streets.

"Killing time, mostly. I'm supposed to pick up my sister from the bus stop in about fifteen minutes."

"I didn't know you had a sister. How old is she?"

"Olivia," he said with a fond smile. "She's 16. She goes to a magic school in L.A., but her school lets out early for Thanksgiving, so she's coming home for a few days."

"That's great news!"

"I think so too. What are you up to tonight, anyway?"

"Getting a little early Christmas shopping done. I was just thinking I might head home, put my feet up. All this shopping is exhausting."

Daniel laughed, "Well, I better head off anyway, don't want to miss her bus at this time in the evening." He glanced at his watch and sighed, "I'm running late as it is, but if you come by the Goblin sometime this week, I'll introduce you."

"I will definitely keep that in mind. Have a good night, Daniel."

"You too," he said, hurrying off.

Hermione smiled as she watched him dodge shoppers in his urgency as a rushed up the main street. She checked her own watch and decided to head back to the flat. Walking confidently through a back-alley shortcut she'd discovered cut at least five minutes off of her route, she was too busy digging through her pockets to notice she was no longer alone in the lane. She cursed herself as she noticed the man standing a few metres down the way, wondering how she could have allowed herself to become so lax in such a short period. As the man drew closer, she couldn't help but notice that he looked a little... off. There was something about him that just didn't sit right. As he stepped into the low glow of a streetlight, she frowned. The slicked-back platinum blond hair, the hollow cheeks, the thin frame - he bore more than a passing resemblance to the bane of her existence during her Hogwarts years.

"What's a sweet little thing like you doing in a dangerous alley like this?"

"Merlin," she gasped, "you're the spitting image of Cassius Malfoy."

"Uh, what?" He looked confused, and Hermione wondered for a moment if perhaps he truly had no idea what she was talking about. "Look, little girl -"

He certainly sounded like a Malfoy. Between the condescension in his tone and the sneer on his face, there was no way this man was not a relative of those evil bastards.

"You're a Malfoy, aren't you? How did you find me here? I'm armed and I've dealt with more than enough Malfoys to know that you're nothing but a bunch of cowards."

"I have no idea what a Malfoy is, but it doesn't sound pleasant. I _found_ you by following you into this very dark alley, and you should know, little girl, that it's a bad idea to call a strange man in a deserted alley a coward. I might just be inclined to prove my lack of cowardice in the most unpleasant manner possible."

"What do you want with me, Malfoy?"

"Paranoid bird, aren't you?" He scoffed, looking more amused than anything at this point. "Why are these Malfoy creatures after you anyways? You escape from a loony bin or something?"

"You're accusing _me _of being crazy? That's a bit rich coming from the likes of you."

"Look, you insane little chit, I'm not one of these Malfoys, and at this point I don't want anything from you other than to get as far away as possible in case your crazy is catching."

"Prove it."

"Prove what?"

"If you're not a Malfoy, prove it." She leveled her wand at him and he sighed, staring at the little piece of wood she brandished.

"You have got to be kidding me. Is that a wand?" He shook his head. "You're one of those bloody witches, I should have known. That hair alone is far too big to be held up by anything but magic."

"What's your name?" She demanded, ignoring the slight on her hair. She'd heard just about every possible insult, and had even used a few herself on particularly bad hair days.

"Spike," he said reluctantly.

"Spike is a dog's name."

"No, Spike's _my _name," he said with a growl. He actually _growled_. The whole situation was a bit bizarre and somehow he knew about the wizarding world, though he didn't seem impressed by 'wand-wavers'.

"No sane parent would name their child _Spike_," argued Hermione. "What's your real name?"

"That is my real name, witch. Now, get out of my way or I'll bite you."

_Bite me? What kind of a threat is that?_ "I don't think so," she said, waving the wand at him again.

"I'm not this Malfoy bloke; I don't even know who he is. Now, if you're done holding me at wand-point, I have things I need to be doing, so how about we each go about our evenings and stop threatening bodily harm."

"Very well," she lowered her wand, and turned to leave.

"Who's this Malfoy character anyway?" Spike called after her.

"He's a right smarmy git. Almost as smarmy as his brother, though not nearly as evil," she said and marched off before he could say another word.

She heard a huff of annoyance as she made her way out of the alley and almost laughed as she realised that exchange had probably gone very differently to how _Spike –_ what kind of a name was that, anyway? -had expected things to go when he entered the alley. Regardless, maybe there was more to be said for the warnings about Sunnydale after dark than she'd believed. Something about that man that had made her oddly nervous. She would stick to the well-lit streets in the future.

**~#~**

Hermione arrived home to a perfectly silent flat. She arranged all her purchases in the top of her wardrobe, and settled herself in for the night. It was strange, she thought, to be properly bored for the first time in years. Over the summer, they'd been too busy celebrating their victory, mourning their losses, and searching endlessly for her parents. They hadn't had time to be bored. And before that, well, her school life had never been boring.

She wasn't entirely sure what to do with herself.

Maybe she would consider asking to join her father's mythology group. After all, Faith and Cordelia seemed to join the others occasionally.

Of course, if Harry and Ron ever found out she hadn't lasted even a few weeks in a new school before joining a research club held in the school library, she'd never hear the end of it.

She drifted off to thoughts of her Hogwarts friends meeting the new friends she was making and resolved to floo call Harry sometime in the next couple of days to invite them all for Christmas. She could certainly do with a dose of her friends' unique perspectives on life. Merlin, she missed them.

**~#~**

******A/N: **To anyone who is still actually reading this: I'm sorry! As I said in my last update (such a long time ago), I will not abandon this story, it just may take a while to get to the end. So, if you're still reading this, I thank you so very much for the reviews, favourites, and follows - I do love coming home to find those little alerts in my inbox, and I'll try to get the rest of this story out in a timely manner. No guarantees, but I'll give it a go. Also,I haven't been writing much recently, so if there's anything that could do with some work or anything that you particularly like about the story, please review - I love constructive criticism and hey, if you feel the need to flame me, go for it. Thanks!


End file.
